


Frig

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 20:37:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20570513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Gladiolus gets the right call at the right time.





	Frig

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s rare that Gladiolus gets the house to himself, that Iris is out late with friends and his father’s still at work, and he can hole himself up in his room without having to worry about how thin the walls are. For once, he doesn’t put on the loudest rock album he has just to drown out the noise. He sinks back against the headboard, head lulled against the wall, mouth open as he lets out another feral growl. He hisses as he brings himself right to the edge, groans as he squeezes his shaft tight and makes himself back down. He’s not ready yet. He wants to enjoy himself. He’s had a hard week, the next one will be harder, he doesn’t have time to go out and find someone to fuck, and he just wants to get off for _hours._

He’ll never make it that long, of course, but he’s going to try. He drags the lubricant down his hard cock and presses his thumb against the head, index and middle finger toying with his foreskin. His eyes fall closed, a familiar image forming behind them. His breath hitches as he strips that figure down, mentally pealing away one bit of unnecessary clothing after the next, piece by piece, first the tie, then ankle garters, socks, gloves, glasses—

His phone rings, and Gladiolus swears. It rings again, buzzing against his nightstand. If he had any other job in the world, he’d ignore it and keep jerking off.

Unfortunately, he has one of the most important jobs in the world, so he uses his one dry hand to snatch up the phone. The other diverts to his thigh, and he spreads his legs open so his growing knot won’t brush over his knuckles. His stiff shaft falls to the soft quilt below, and even that makes him shiver. 

Without checking the display, he answers with a gruff, “Hello.”

_“Gladio,”_ Ignis rasps, his voice low and hoarse. Gladiolus tenses. _“We need to discuss Noctis’ training schedule next week... there’s been a change in council meetings—”_ Ignis cuts off for a few conspicuous seconds, audibly swallowing before continuing, noticeably breathless, _“It would help if we could move Tuesday’s session to eight o’clock in the evening.”_

That’s late for a workout. But Ignis knows best, so Gladiolus would normally bark ‘sure’ and get back to his dick. 

There’s a muffled noise on the other end—Ignis has probably covered his mouth to hold back a moan. It didn’t work. Gladiolus knows exactly what’s going on. He should keep his mouth shut about it, because it’s none of his business, and it’s incredibly impressive that Ignis always manages to stay so on top of his work despite his grueling work conditions. He should’ve never moved in with Noctis; it’s done nothing but offer distractions. 

He seems determined to work right through it. The fact that he didn’t wait until afterwards must mean that there was no reasonable expectation of an afterwards—that this breathless strain is Ignis new twenty-four seven. Gladiolus isn’t complaining. 

He’s just jealous. He mutters, “He’s inside you right now, isn’t he?”

There’s a pop of static over a huff of breath. A short groan, and Ignis mutters, _“I apologize... but I really must work out these scheduling conflicts, and as the council can hardly be postponed—”_

“He needs to stop doing that.” It comes out more annoyed than Gladiolus means it. He doesn’t want to give Ignis anymore trouble.

_“Gladio, if we could work out these appointments—”_

“Change them to whatever you need. Are you knotted?” He shouldn’t ask that. But his cock’s twitching and he needs to know. He’s already picturing Ignis’ puckered hole spread open, and he needs to know how wide. He can’t tell if Ignis is close to coming or has just come, but either way, it sounds like he’s been used to his limit. Gladiolus just wishes he could see it as well as he can hear it. 

_“If we could stick to the matter at hand, pl—ah, please... that would put Thursday’s session at seven-thirty...”_ His voice dies out before he can give the a.m. or p.m., and Gladiolus can hear rustling in the background—maybe Noctis switching positions. It’s driving Gladiolus crazy.

If he weren’t so close to the edge himself, he’d probably be able to keep his mouth shut, but he’s sweating and hot, so he admits, “Lucky bastard.”

He fully expects to be scolded, but instead, Ignis raggedly moans, _“Thank goodness it’s only him. I doubt I’d be able to breathe, much less do work, if I had your massive knot stuffed inside me.”_

Gladiolus’ vision blurs red. He can faintly hear Noctis squawking, _“Hey!”_

It’s followed up by Ignis crying out, which makes more precum dribble out of Gladiolus’ cock. All he needs is one more little noise from Ignis, and he’ll blow.

Unfortunately, Ignis concludes, _“I’ll text you the corrections; thank you for your cooperation.”_ Then he hangs up.

Gladiolus keeps the phone to his ear anyway and plays back the conversation in his head, mainly the part where Ignis talks about being full of his cock, until the bedspread’s ruined.


End file.
